Sherlock Shopping
by King Avery
Summary: Sherlock finds himself buying groceries with no idea how to use the check out machine.


_**A/N: I do not own Sherlock or the characters.**_

Sherlock Holmes is used to being alone, he really is. He prefers it even. So why is it so hard now? He's tried talking to John but the man is out of town so it's only frustrating. What use is a conductor of light if he isn't home when he's needed? Curse Harry and her bender for dragging John away for who knows how long.

Mrs. Hudson is just downstairs though she hardly counts as company anyway. Goldfish, that's what Mycroft calls normal people right? What an apt description. Sherlock by now is pacing, full of unbridled, agitated energy. What can he possibly do to get past this abhorrent lonesomeness? It distracts from everything else. As if sensing Sherlock's wrath John sends a text through, forcing Sherlock to break his stride.

 **Harry's settled into the hospital. It was really bad last night. I'm coming home for now. Make sure we have some food. –JW**

Without John home the last few days everything had gone off or had run out. John would be back soon, though, and he would be able to focus again. Getting the groceries would mean John doesn't have to leave the flat again for a while. That settles it, a trip to the shop for distraction and to keep John home longer.

XxX

Once at the Tesco Sherlock does his best to recover a file on what John keep on hand the most? Tea. An alarming amount of the stuff; so he picks up a variety of it. John also complains about milk constantly so Sherlock grabs a gallon. While in the area he takes a carton of eggs as well. He progresses through the whole store in this way; picking out anything that seems familiar. Soon he has two baskets overflowing.

Satisfied with this haul Sherlock faces the mundane horror of waiting in a queue. He opts for a self checking machine. Why even pretend to have social skills today? The elderly gentleman at the front of his line is counting out his total in change scattered atop a wide array of coupons. Sherlock groans loudly and sets his baskets down. This is nowhere near as easy as John makes it sound. He decides that even if his life depends on it Sherlock Holmes will never do the shopping again.

The single mother with her toddler that steps up nearly ten minutes later is blessedly quicker since she needs to pick her son up from sports early. The teenager after, however, is not as considerate. Clearly he is nervous about buying condoms; hoping his date goes well. He's desperate not to be seen doing it and consequently is buying many things to cover the fact. His shaky hands prevent anything from scanning right away.

What was it Mycroft called normal people again? Goldfish. Yes how very accurate. _Finally_ the boy takes his receipt and left. Alright, pretty straight forward. Slide the barcode across the scanner, bag, and repeat. So simple even an actual goldfish could do it.

Every item is scanned and bagged up in record time. The more breakable things like eggs even had their own bag. Now on to paying; it should be just as easy. Sherlock pulls his credit card out only to realize he has no data on how to use this type of machine for purchases. He's seen the sliding and bagging many times so it had stuck in a dusty file but the rest was a mystery.

Sherlock stares blankly at the screen, willing the nonexistent data to surface. The couple behind him clear their throats and it wakes Sherlock back up. He glances around quickly as if to get his bearings then turns back to the machine. He scans the entire thing with his eyes for information. His eyes come to rest on the clearly labeled diagram depicting how to pay.

The detective growls and slides his card into the slot; knowing that if Mycroft was watching –which he probably was- he would never live to forget this event. The PIN is punched in angrily and the receipt is torn with a vengeance. It takes a little maneuvering but a couple of minutes later Sherlock is carrying around fifteen bags down the street.

Luckily Mrs. Hudson is leaving as he reaches the door and is able to let him into the house and 221B. He stores all the cold things in the designated food areas of the refrigerator but decides to leave the rest for John to organize at will. He stands in the kitchen now to read over the slew of worried messages from his blogger. Understandable, Sherlock usually replies lightning quick unless under duress. While worry _could_ get John home faster Sherlock decides to give him a break this once and replies.

 **Went for food as requested. Will never do again. Come soon. Harry can manage one night without you coddling. –SH**


End file.
